


Title: Art/Fic: An Erosion of Trust

by LFB72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arguments, Art, Betrayal, Canon Divergence, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e07 The Castle of Fyrien, Hopeful Ending, Lies, Magic, Magic Reveal, Multi, Possibly Unrequited Love, Secrets, Traditional Media, Trust Issues, Watercolours
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LFB72/pseuds/LFB72
Summary: Art illustrating an alternative version of the season three episode: The Castle Fyrien.When Merlin and Morgana argue about trust, magic and past grievances on the way to the Castle of Fyrien. Their conversation might not have been as private as they thought.





	1. An Erosion of Trust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LeFayArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeFayArt/gifts).

> I had no idea which episode to choose, so the mods chose for me, then I could not think what to do but during re-watch of the episode Mattie made a suggestion which was the inspiration for this, so thank you for that I hope you like it.  
I’m indebted to my lovely betas; Clea2011, Camelittle and schweetheart without whom none of this would be possible. This also fills my hurt and comfort bingo square for ‘trust issues’.  
Many thanks to the mods for organising this fest — it’s a great idea and fun to do.  
Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

[ ](https://imgur.com/QyQdvEX)

The castle of Fyrien is another day's ride away. They will have to camp overnight. Gwen is looking at Arthur with admiration and longing — the hero of the hour, riding out to save her brother from Cenred’s clutches and putting the world to rights. Morgana can't stand it. Being around them makes her skin crawl, so she takes herself off into the forest to enjoy some solitary time.

Crouching down collecting firewood, Morgana pauses when she hears a noise behind her. Waiting for a moment, she turns slowly to face the approaching figure. She inwardly curses. _ I might have known! _

“What do you want, Merlin?” she demands tartly, with no attempt to hide the obvious displeasure she feels at his presence.

Merlin stands in front of her, appearing the epitome of innocence. With his tall, willowy frame and ungainly gait, he could be mistaken as being benign but he is anything but. 

“Arthur sent me. He wanted to make sure that you were all right.” The words sound sincere, but the delivery isn’t.

“How very thoughtful of him,” she replies with equally hollow sentiment, attempting to walk away.

He steps in front, blocking her path. “Well, he cares for you. Gwen does too. They're your friends, Morgana. They've always been loyal to you.” This time, his tone is urgent and imploring, but the content has no appeal. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

She knows what he's trying to do, but it won't work. Morgana continues to gather sticks, ignoring Merlin, but he does not leave. He’s like a fly; constantly irksome and nigh on impossible to get rid of.

“Because I don't understand how anyone would want to hurt their friends,” he says bluntly.

She snorts, finally pushing past him. “No, you just poison them.” 

She’s still bitter about it. She had trusted him and he betrayed her. Never again will she allow herself to be manipulated like that. Never again will she show vulnerability.

He looks down and does not deny it. “I had no choice.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“The whole of Camelot would have perished; Gaius, Gwen, Arthur—”

“Save me the lecture, Merlin. You almost cost me my life.” 

She'd thought he cared, that the magic didn't matter to him, but she had been naive; he'd taken advantage, but he wouldn’t do so again.

“To save thousands!” he shouts, grimacing and clenching his fists as if that made what he’d done all right, as if that somehow justified it all. 

“How many thousands of innocents would have been saved if Uther had died?” Morgana spits.

He does not contest the point and appears to have lost the argument. Unfortunately, like the fly she thought she had swatted, he lies low then comes back.

“It’s not the same,” he says, shaking his head.

“Isn’t it?” she snaps. Demanding his attention, demanding he looks at her. “Would you have sacrificed your precious Arthur to save Camelot?”

“Arthur would never have tried to destroy it!" he bites back.

“We were going to rebuild it. A better Camelot, not the corrupt citadel it is now. A few casualties are acceptable in the name of change.” 

That’s what her sister had promised, the prize Morgause covets even now, and Morgana will do all she can to make it happen.

"Arthur would never resort to killing innocent people to force a change." 

Merlin seems to think he’s dodged her question. He has not, and she takes pleasure in reminding him: “That’s not what I asked. Would you let Arthur die to save Camelot?” She enunciates each word and raises her volume so he can’t pretend he hasn’t heard her. 

“I wouldn't have to.” Merlin levels his gaze and puffs out his chest. “Arthur would sacrifice himself first. He drank what he thought was poison to save Camelot. Arthur would do anything for his people, for his king. When Uther was enchanted by Katrina, to break the spell Arthur took a potion that stopped his heart. Uther believed him dead.”

“He wasn’t though, was he?” Morgana sneers.

“He was until we gave him the antidote.”

“Ah, the antidote. Where was _ my _ antidote, Merlin?” He doesn’t answer. “Where was _ my _choice? You discussed your plans with Arthur, but not with me?” 

Merlin picks at his tunic and bites his lip, refusing to look at her. “I...” 

“What’s wrong, Merlin? You had plenty to say before. What is the difference between us? Oh, wait... I know; I have magic, and Arthur doesn’t!”

“That’s not the reason!” he shrieks. 

"Isn't it?"

“No!” 

He's flustered, the sanctimonious bravado of before now completely gone. He makes several attempts to answer but falters each time, until eventually he admits hesitantly, “I… I did not think I could trust you…”

_ “Trust me!” _ She clenches her fists and grinds her teeth. The magic inside her boils and wants to spill over, to damage and destroy, to seek vengeance. 

She wants to see his body fly across the clearing. She wants to hear his spine crack as it hits the tree, and she wants to smell his blood when it spills into the earth and stains it red.

She can’t do it. She can’t lose control. Patience and caution, her sister says. Bide your time and wait for the right opportunity. 

Morgause had not told her the exact nature of the spell, or that her life force was tied to that of the immortal knights. _Would she have gone through with it if had known?_ _If he'd challenged her then, would she have changed her mind? _

Uther is hailed as a great king for having brought peace and prosperity — for some that is true, for others he brought only death, fear and misery. Why is she criticised and damned for wanting to destroy those who would do her and her kin harm before they have a chance to do it? It’s what any ruler would do, what Uther has done: eliminate the threat. It may not be honourable, but she's not a knight, she's a survivor. 

“You didn’t even try,” she finally says. 

“I never treated you differently. I never told anyone. I tried to help you,” he pleads.

_ “Help me _? You told me to go to the druids then Arthur and Camelot knights tried to slaughter them.”

“I did not know that would happen. I thought you’d be safe.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to go on before issuing a warning; “You'd do well, Merlin, to stay out of things that do not concern you.” She drops the wood, narrowly missing his feet, and storms off.

Merlin follows her, undeterred. He catches up, grabbing her arm and spinning her around to face him.

“Oh, but they do concern me, because they're my friends too. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect them.”

He's just a bloody servant, but he always seems to know what to do, how to get in the way and stop her. No matter. He'll be useless against Cenred's forces; they all will, even Arthur.

“I would expect nothing less,” she says and shakes out of his grip.

As she walks away, Merlin calls to her. “Arthur is a good man, Morgana. He’s not his father — he’ll make a good king.”

She stops. Her head dips and her shoulders brace then she turns around. “Why is_ he _so special? Why shouldn’t someone else make a good leader?”

“It’s his right, Morgana. It’s what he was born to do. He cares about Camelot and his people.”

_ Her right, her people. _

“Not _ all _the people, Merlin. Does he care about those with magic?”

Merlin bites his lip. It’s the first time he’s wavered in his defence of the golden prince.

“He doesn’t know, Morgana,” Merlin says quietly, walking towards her, head shoulders slumped. “He has never been given the chance or shown the good magic can do. You had an opportunity to show him. You could have changed his mind — you still could.”

_ There he goes again, trying to take the moral high ground. Does he not realise that the time for acceptance has passed? She is stronger and better than them, why should she hide and deny her very essence? There was a time... but that time has gone. _

“Me?” She snorts. “I prefer my head on my shoulders.”

“It wouldn’t be like that.”

“Wouldn’t it? Did Arthur stand up for Gwen’s father when Uther wrongly accused him of having magic?”

“No,” he replies flatly.

“I did. I challenged Uther when no one else would, and you know what happened? I was thrown into the dungeons like a common criminal.” 

“Arthur is different. He’s not like that.” It sounds more like an appeal than a certainty.

Her face loses the bitter scowl, and her features even out. “You really believe Arthur would accept me?”

He hesitates before facing her. “I want to. I have faith in him.”

“That’s not enough.” The façade cracks and she laughs. “You’re deluded.”

“No. I believe in him, in the king he will become,” Merlin says defiantly.

She studies Merlin, considers his unwavering devotion to Arthur and it all clicks into place. She doesn't understand how she missed all the signs before.

She strides forward and grabs his chin, her nails dig into his flesh. “So, do you think Arthur will accept you?”

“What?” 

She releases her grip and he stumbles back, tripping over his feet and landing on the ground. She comes to stand over him, her shadow blocking out the sun. “Are you going to tell Arthur _ your _ little secret, Merlin?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice wobbles and he looks away.

“Really?” She bends down, tracking his movements with her own so they’re at eye level. “Not so easy to be brave when your own head is on the chopping block, is it?”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“No? It makes perfect sense to me. Morgause could not understand why a mere servant would be so faithful to Arthur, why you would repeatedly risk your own measly life getting in the way and causing trouble. But I’ve worked it out.”

Merlin slowly gets up, dusting the dirt from his trousers. He doesn’t break eye contact, nor does he speak, but a shadow descends over his features.

“You can admit it to me, Merlin. After all, we’re all friends here, aren't we?” She smiles.

Merlin rounds his shoulders and alters his stance.

She observes his posture and chuckles. “What is this, don’t you trust me?”

“Not any more.” 

Merlin’s hands are wide, he’s poised it’s almost as if he expects a fight. She can best him with a sword easily and her magic is strong — trying to stand up to her is futile. 

An attack with words is so much more fun, and the wounds she can deliver are just as debilitating but invisible to all but him.

“Are you afraid of what he will say when he learns the truth? Do you think he will treat you differently, not want you around anymore?”

“Arthur is a just and honourable man.”

“Hmm.” She rubs her chin. “You don’t sound convinced.”

He doesn’t answer and he’s frowning, white as chalk. She can see perspiration beading on his forehead; he looks like he’s in pain. She has finally hurt him and it feels good.

Morgana strikes before he has a chance to recover. “Admit it, Merlin, you’re in love with him.” 

“No!” 

His discomfort is delicious, his shock sublime to see. 

“Come now, it’s obvious,” she coos.

“That’s ridiculous!” he shouts. “Arthur loves Gwen.”

“I’m sure he does. Who wouldn’t love perfect Gwen?”

“Gwen is a good person.”

“Yes, she is, positively angelic. What are you to her? She is beautiful, with smooth copper skin, dark eyes and glorious curves but you …” She waves her hand up and down in disgust and shrugs before continuing, “Gwen is brave, resolute and honest and you, Merlin, are a scheming, duplicitous coward!” 

Merlin flinches at her words as if they were lashes. 

“Takes one to know one,” he grits out.

She slaps his face. 

_ Don’t lose control. His death would be difficult to explain to Arthur at this stage, would arouse suspicion. She would fail her sister, ruin their plan. _

Morgana steps forward, drawing on the whip of words — her most effective weapon where Merlin is concerned.

“Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how you follow him around.”

“I’m his servant.”

“Yes, and that’s all you’ll ever be. How does it feel, Merlin, not to be noticed? Not to matter? He didn’t send you away to check on me, he got rid of you so he can have some alone time with dear Gwen.”

“Gwen is a kind person. She was your friend, Morgana, she doesn’t deserve this.”

Morgana gasps theatrically. “You wound me, Merlin, but I am not so easily hurt now. I have said nothing dishonourable about sweet Gwen: only that she is better and far more desirable than you.”

He does not answer.

“This jaunt to the Castle of Fyrien, it’s all for her. There is nothing Arthur would not do for Gwen. Too bad he doesn't feel the same way about you.” 

“Arthur defied his father years ago to get the Mortaeus flower; he saved my life.”

Morgana tuts, “You've got it bad, haven’t you? Did you think that meant he cares? Oh, you did!” She laughs, “I never said he wasn’t noble. Arthur has had many servants, Merlin. Admittedly, you’ve stuck around longer than most, but in all these years has he ever really treated you differently? Has your relationship changed at all? No! Last I heard, you were still emptying his chamber pot and mucking out stables. You're dispensable and replaceable, just a general dogsbody, a nobody.”

“That’s not true— ”

She shakes her head, “He’s noticed Gwen though; he treats_ her _differently, doesn’t he? He wants to spend more time with her and you’re just getting in the way. You’re a nuisance Merlin. No one wants you.” 

“It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you hurt them.” 

“If you have a problem, Merlin, why don't you try talking to Arthur about it?” 

He doesn’t answer. He looks dejected and beaten; she is the victor this time and will be again.

“No? Well, keep your mouth shut, then.”

Her green eyes flicker gold as she hisses the words of the old religion under her breath. The wood that was so carefully collected, scatters. She looks at it. “Oh dear, no fuel for the fire, Arthur will be cross. Better hurry — if we don’t have that, we will have to huddle together for warmth.” 

Merlin looks at her for a long time but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he bends down and starts the laborious task of picking up sticks. Morgana walks past, kicking dirt and leaves in his face, then grabs his tunic. “Now remember, Merlin, you keep _ my _ secret and I’ll keep yours.” 

She walks away, not looking back. She feels lighter, almost joyful knowing she has the upper hand and won’t have to put up with him or any of them for much longer.

Merlin sinks to the ground. He does not notice the cold, wet earth or the moisture that soaks through his trousers. He beats the flesh of his thighs with his fists then he grabs his hair pulling hard and pressing the heels of his hands into his temples. It hurts. It just hurts so much and the physical discomfort is nothing, it pales into insignificance compared to the weight of all his mistakes. He hopes the pain will stop, that the whirring thoughts of regrets guilt and anxiety will go away — they don’t.

He rocks back and forth, seeking a comfort that isn’t there and when he opens his eyes it’s the same world, nothing has changed. He has turned Morgana against them. He did not cause the ban on magic, he did not create the fear and prejudice that living with it entails, but when Morgana discovered her gift it was like a river seeking the sea; its course was inevitable but he had tried to stop it, tried to build a dam. The pressure grew and sought outlets elsewhere, outlets in the form of Morgause. The dam broke. A torrent of range has been unleashed. He is responsible for her and the destruction she has caused: it is his fault.

Morgana is right. He should have tried harder to help her, but he couldn’t lose Arthur. He had to sacrifice her to protect Arthur, and there was no question in his mind that when there was a choice to be made, he chose Arthur. He would do it again. Camelot could crumble as long as Arthur survives. He’d give his own life and that of others to save him, there is nothing he would not do, no alternative, no line he would not cross. She is right about that too; Arthur is everything. He tells himself it is destiny and duty, but it is more than that, more than he wants to admit. 

Arthur has chosen Gwen and Gwen will make him happy. Merlin tells himself that will have to do, that that is the way things are and it is for the best. Gwen is strong and she will support Arthur, that’s what matters, Arthur’s needs will always come before his own. 

Although, that is not strictly true. Arthur craves honesty and trust above most things and Merlin can’t give him that without risking everything. He is selfish: he would rather have Arthur close but unavailable than tell him the truth and be rejected. He will continue to lie even though each untruth erodes Arthur’s trust, so that when Arthur finally knows all his secrets there will be nothing left. Merlin can’t afford to think about that, he has to deal with today, to do what he can to protect and keep Arthur safe now even if he has to pay the price later.

Merlin scans the clearing. He is alone. 

He stands and raises his hands. Merlin’s eyes glow gold and he releases his magic. “_ Hors, bebiede þe arisan ealdu. _”

The magic is palpable – a vibration through the earth and a warm breeze that picks up leaves. Vegetation swirls into a small column. The column of air grows bigger and gathers speed, becoming a small tornado that lifts the sticks and firewood that Morgana scattered, drawing them together into a moving mass, pulsing with energy.

The mass changes shape until a recognisable creature is formed: a horse. The air stills and the magic dissipates. The horse is majestic; as beautiful as any sculpture and the same size as real mare, except it has branches for bones and twigs for tendons. 

The wooden horse walks towards its master, like a living creature. It stops before Merlin and dips its head, and Merlin rubs its nose, patting his neck.

Merlin sniffs and clears his throat. He wipes his face with the sleeve from his tunic, then lets his fingers run down the wooden spine of the animal, and the horse rears its head in response.

“Time to go,” Merlin whispers.

He has created something beautiful, something no one else can see and he can’t keep. Merlin clicks his fingers and the mirage collapses, becoming dead wood and tinder. 

Merlin takes a moment, then begins to gather the wood in his hands. Once he’s done, he straightens his back and plasters a benevolent expression to his face, ready to go back to the others; ready to go back to being ordinary and invisible.

Merlin has magic.

Arthur ducks behind a tree as Merlin passes. He will have to leave if he wants to get back to camp before his servant, but he’s too shocked to move.

He’d gone looking for Merlin after the servant had been absent for too long. Arthur could not help but be concerned, given the territory they were in.

He heard them before he saw them. No firewood was being gathered; instead a full blown altercation between Morgana and Merlin was taking place. No one chose to argue with Morgana – he had learnt that from a very young age – but Merlin was not backing down. He stood in front of her and his extra height made him intimidating, threatening almost, which did not seem like Merlin at all.

Merlin is not who he pretends to be.

Their argument was a revelation of truths: Merlin’s loyalty to him, to Camelot, to all of them — that much was abundantly clear. Morgana is not loyal. Morgana had showed real cruelty and enjoyed it. Morgana means them harm — he’d had no idea.

Morgana has magic.

Arthur slumps to the ground and lets his head bounce against the trunk of the tree. He’s been a fool. How could he not see what was going on in front of him? _ Because they kept it hidden; because they did not trust him with the truth. _

Morgana has always had strange dreams. As a child, she had confided her fears in Arthur and those fears sometimes became true. But he’d dismissed it as intuition. As she got older, she stopped confiding in him and he assumed she’d grown out of it. 

In the run up to her disappearance, strange things had happened, it was true, but strange things were always happening in Camelot.

Of course Morgana had changed; he was the one who had not wanted to admit it. She’d been held in supposed captivity for a year; that had to have an effect on a person, and yet she’d appeared no different on her return. As a knight, Arthur had been taught what to expect if caught in enemy territory, how to behave if taken prisoner, what signs to look for in those who were released. He had done none of this; he did not question the vague account of what had happened to her, or her unfeasibly good health and appearance when she came back. He did not ask questions or doubt her sincerity. He'd been happy; gratified that the endless hunt for her was no longer his responsibility, relieved that his father would no longer mourn her loss, and grateful that the clouds had lifted over Camelot and things could go back to normal. He was a fool, an ignorant fool.

He had known her as a child; her fierce temper, her sense of rightness, and her cunning. She’d been passionate, stubborn and kind, but also vengeful when crossed. One did not win an argument with Morgana. On reflection, she was still many of those things; what had changed was how she viewed him, the direction of her passion and the recipient of her ire. They had always been on the same side, and now they were in opposition. She was a fearsome adversary, she always had been, but now she had weapons he did not: she had magic.

Merlin knows Morgana has magic. Has known for some time.

Why did he not tell Arthur she meant them harm? _ Would anyone have believed Merlin? Would Arthur? _ How many times had he dismissed Merlin’s fears and caution only to be proved wrong?

On her return, there had been an animosity between Morgana and Merlin which was palpable. Arthur may have been ignorant of many things, but he had noticed the sudden friction between them and he had wondered what had caused it.

Merlin had sacrificed Morgana to save Camelot, to save Arthur. Merlin had no right to do such a thing, to make that choice, to act without discussion, but do it he had and Camelot did not fall … it stands strong, at least for now.

Merlin has magic.

Merlin has secrets.

Merlin has many secrets.

Merlin is loyal.

These facts are incongruent: each one irrefutable and yet they cannot exist alongside each other, or at least that is what he thought.

Merlin is loyal to him, Arthur has known this for some time. He had never realised the true extent or how remarkable that was, but it is a truth he believes and cannot deny. There is ample evidence. 

Merlin has magic.

Magic is wrong, magic is corrupt, magic is evil and yet Merlin is none of these things. Merlin’s magic had taken his breath away: he’d seen a horse created out of dead wood and detritus, something that should be inert teeming with life that was gentle and reverent. There for a fleeting moment then gone, but Arthur would never forget. 

The magic appeared effortless. Arthur had never seen anything like it. It was powerful, beautiful…and yet familiar — there was no denying he’s felt it before; the warm tingle in the air, a sense of safety and confidence — his guardian angel. He’d never known what it was before, had never associated it with or even conceived that it could be magic. Now that he recognised it for what it was, he also recognised it was quintessentially Merlin, like a scent, a footprint, the sound of someone's voice — unique and unmistakable. 

Merlin is deceitful. 

Merlin never told him he had magic, never trusted him. Trust is the pillar of any relationship; without it, nothing is sustainable—it will all fail and crumble. Merlin did not trust him and yet Arthur had told Merlin everything; his fears, his hopes, his anxieties. He had never known Merlin’s hopes, fears or anxieties— he never tried to find out, never thought they could be that important.

Arthur has a pretty good idea what Merlin’s fears and anxieties are now. He’d just had a front row seat to the performance that was Merlin. How much of what he’d known previously had been an act, the show that Merlin had wanted to them see but not the real thing, not the whole person? _ How could Merlin keep this from him? What does Merlin think he would do? What is he going to do… _?

Merlin loves him.

Merlin would keep that from Arthur, too, and yet Merlin had seemed just as shocked and confused by the revelation as Arthur had.

Arthur loves Guinevere. 

Guinevere is beautiful, kind and honest. He loves her—at least, he thinks he does. He has known Guinevere longer than Merlin but never noticed her until Merlin arrived. To have someone like her had never been a possibility, to question his father’s ideals had never been an option until Merlin. Merlin had made him feel like his own opinions mattered, that he was worth more than the expectation of perfect son. 

He can see a life with Guinevere but he can’t see a life without Merlin, for all his plans and dreams — Merlin is there too, a constant presence that he does not want to get rid of. _ What the hell does that mean? _

He’d felt fiercely defensive during Morgana’s attack, as if her words wounded him as much as they did Merlin. It hurt to hear Morgana taunt his servant, to dismiss his appearance and worth as nothing. Arthur values Merlin — not that he would tell Merlin that. He can chastise Merlin (that’s their thing, they have an understanding) but no one else can. 

Does he love Merlin? Does he want too? How can he love someone who doesn’t trust him? Maybe he has to show them trust first.

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. He can’t deal with this right now. He needs to fulfil the Quest and retrieve Elyan, although it is looking more and more like a trap. His intention was to use the underground labyrinth of tunnels to access the castle of Fyrien, tunnels that he is certain Cenred knows nothing about.

He has to trust Morgana, give her a chance to prove him wrong. If he tells her his plan and they are ambushed, then he knows she has betrayed them, and if they somehow escape, then Merlin will have saved them.

He dusted the dirt off his clothes and heads back to camp, where he will have to act like his whole world hasn’t just fallen apart.

[ ](https://imgur.com/kUoysqk)

They were ambushed in the siege tunnels by Cenred’s forces. 

The attack happened from behind, meaning Cenred’s men had followed them rather than knew where the tunnels existed in the castle.

Morgana had betrayed him.

After being captured, all four were forced to kneel in front of Cenred, who after some general gloating and strutting about had sent them to the dungeons.

Even though Arthur had overheard Morgana in the woods and sensed how angry and bitter she was, when it came down to it, he’d thought that she would have a change of heart. They were brought up together, brother and sister in all but blood – that had to count for something. 

He’d resented her as a young child; his father always had time and a smile for Morgana, the beautiful cuckoo, but not for Arthur, the son who killed his mother. They’d had little in common save Arthur had one dead parent and Morgana had two, but they were both stubborn and strong willed and she liked sword fighting so had eventually found some shared interests. In later years, a bond of sorts formed, forged by a mutual dislike of the pomp and ceremony that came with being a royal. That was all gone now. She had decided already what his reaction would be to the discovery of her magic and acted defensively; she’d never even tried to speak to him about it. _ Did she think him so insensitive that family meant nothing? It meant something to him _ — _ it meant _ everything _ to him. _

A sharp prod in the back refocuses Arthur’s thoughts: he and Merlin are now being led down a dark corridor. They come to a prison cell and Arthur is shoved inside, so hard that he stumbles into Merlin, sending them both tumbling to the dirty, straw-covered floor. 

The guard slams the door. They hear the clunk of a key in the lock and a bolt being pulled across, then retreating footsteps.

“I don't understand why we're not dead already,” Merlin mutters, getting up and brushing himself down.

Arthur sighs. “Because Cenred will want to torture me first. Find out what I know.”

“Aren't you afraid?”

“No. Not in the slightest.” Arthur is pacing up and down, feeling the walls, checking the dimensions and testing for any loose bricks.

Merlin scrunches up his face into a frown, “Sorry, I don't understand. How can you not be afraid of pain?”

“I am afraid of pain, there's just not going to be any,” Arthur answers confidently. He tries to reach up to the tiny barred window, but it’s too high.

“Right. So, you go into some sort of trance?”

Arthur stops his surveillance and stares at Merlin. “What are you talking about?” _ Is it any wonder he doubted the man’s intelligence? _ He’s still angry with Merlin about the magic thing, but can’t deal with that right now. There is no denying it would help them get out quicker but there is only so much he can cope with. “There's not going to be any pain because we are going to escape from this filthy cell and rescue the others.” Besides Arthur is more than capable of breaking out of some poxy dungeon on his own.

“So, do you have a plan?” Merlin says chirpily.

“Not as such.”

Exhausted, Arthur lets himself slide down the wall. Merlin does the same.

“Do you think it was foolish to try and rescue Guinevere’s brother?” Arthur asks.

“I don’t think you had much choice.”

“I could have said no,” Arthur argues reasonably.

“You wouldn’t.” Merlin shrugs, “It’s who you are.”

Arthur nods and plays with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Merlin sighs. “You can't help who you love, Arthur.”

Arthur hesitates then clears his throat. “No.” 

Arthur is saturated with new knowledge about his servant to the extent he’s struggling to digest it all yet he can’t help but crave another morsel. “What about you?”

Merlin raises his eyebrows and coughs. “Me?”

“Would you risk everything for love?”

Merlin gets up off the floor and shakes out his limbs. “Uncomfortable down there,” he states, not answering the question. He’s always been good at diverting attention away, changing the subject, but Arthur won’t let him. 

“Well?”

The smile slides from Merlin’s face.

“Tell me,” Arthur urges.

Merlin paces up and down and listens at the door to the passing guard. He looks down and scratches his face. “There was someone, once.”

“Before you came to Camelot?” Arthur finds it hard to imagine Merlin with another, not because he isn’t desirable but because he’s always with Arthur. There would be no time for anyone else, and Arthur is dismayed to find he doesn’t like the idea.

Merlin wipes his hands on his trousers and shakes his head a fraction.

“What?” Arthur had not expected that. _ “Who?” _he asks, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Unable to stop making mental lists of who it could have been.

Merlin chews at his lip. “Leave it, Arthur. I don’t want to talk about it.” He walks back to the door and listens again, even though only seconds have gone by.

“Well, it can’t have been very serious, otherwise I would have known about it.”

_ “Would you? _ You don’t know everything about me, Arthur,” Merlin snaps, banging the door with his fist.

“Well, it’s not my fault you don’t tell me anything!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Merlin shrieks, going scarlet.

“You can’t get angry at me for being insensitive when_ you _ keep secrets,” shouts Arthur.

“Why would I tell you something important? You never listen!”

“I’m listening now,” challenges Arthur.

“You really want to know? Right now, when we’re stuck in here_ , this _ is what you want to talk about?” Merlin says, his finger pointing at Arthur and his shoulders shaking.

“Yes.”

Merlin’s mouth forms a hard line but Arthur just stares until he breaks.

“Fine! We were going to run away together! Is that serious enough for you?”

There is a bang on the door. “Keep it down in there.”

Neither of them say anything for a while.

“Leave Camelot?” Arthur says, and manages to stop himself adding, _ Leave me? _

Merlin nods and turns away, completely deflated. He leans his head against the door. He doesn’t speak, but his breath is harsh and laboured, as if he’s been running.

“Why didn’t you?” Arthur says quietly. It’s like picking at a scab; he knows he shouldn’t do it, but he can’t help himself.

A small stone hits the door. Merlin aims another. “She died.”

“Oh.”

Merlin does not go into any more detail, and Arthur is not sure he wants to know the exact circumstances of the girl’s death. There is not a lot he can say that won’t sound crass or insensitive. He’d had no idea Merlin had lost someone. Yet again, he has been made painfully aware of his ignorance, and the fact that he really doesn’t know much about the man in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Merlin clears his throat and gazes at the ceiling of the cell. “It probably wouldn’t have worked out.”

“Why?”

Merlin shrugs, “We hadn’t known each other for very long… I think I was in love with the idea of being in love — the thought that for once, someone could accept me for who I really am — and nothing else mattered for a while; no responsibilities….” Merlin strides up and down the small space. “But Gaius is old. He needs me, you need me… I think I would have had to come back to Camelot eventually.”

Arthur wonders what it was about this girl that had captivated Merlin so much. What she had that made Merlin feel he could contemplate leaving. Why Merlin could show a side of himself to her that he kept hidden from everyone else, that he kept hidden from Arthur. Yet Merlin stated that the draw of Camelot or rather the people in it, Arthur, would be too strong to keep him away forever. It is a sobering thought and Arthur tries to lighten the mood.

“You like being my servant that much?”

Merlin snorts. “Of course not, you couldn’t cope without me.”

Arthur opens his mouth in mock protest even though the statement contains a truth Arthur would rather not admit.

Merlin gives a wan smile and does his best impression of Arthur: “Where’s my dinner, Merlin? Where are my socks, my speech…?” He trails off and examines a bit of mud on his trousers.

“There’s been no one else?” Arthur asks when Merlin has been quiet for too long.

Merlin shakes his head ruefully. “I don’t think there ever will be. No one else would ever feel that way about me.” He turns away but Arthur sees him rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket.

Arthur notes how Merlin carefully avoided mentioning is own wants and desires and only focused on how others may feel about him. Now is not the time to push or challenge, so instead Arthur walks over to Merlin and places a hand tentatively on his shoulder. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Merlin allows Arthur to maintain contact for a while before twisting to face him. “Talking is not really your strong point.”

“What?”

“You’re a great with a sword... but thinking, Arthur, it’s not really your thing – after all, we’re supposed to be planning our escape.”

“I’ll have you know, I have come up with a plan.”

“Which is?”

“You distract the guard and I’ll jump him. 

“That’s the plan?”

“Unless you have anything else in mind?” Arthur resists the urge to wiggle his fingers and make the sound of door being blown off its hinges.

Merlin looks like he might argue, then claps his hands. “All right, let's do that.”

[ ](https://imgur.com/wjdDrEy)

Cenred’s guards are no match for the prince and his servant. Two down, Arthur runs along the passageway with a stolen set of keys clasped in his hand. He shouts and bangs on the cell doors.

“Guinevere?”

“Yes,” comes the muffled reply.

Arthur fumbles with the lock and hears it click, then forces the door open. He is relieved to find Elyan and Guinevere unharmed inside.

“Where's Morgana?”

“I thought she was with you.”

“They must be holding her somewhere else. Let's go.”

Arthur turns towards Merlin, grabbing his arm. “Take Gwen and Elyan with you. Guard them with your life,” he tells him.

“What about you?”

“I'm going to get Morgana.” 

He has to; there is no choice in his mind.

“No, you can't! It's too dangerous,” Merlin shouts.

He can’t leave her behind, not when there is still a chance to change things. “Sorry, Merlin, I'm not leaving without her.” Arthur is already running towards the hall when the warning bell sounds. He peers around a corner and throws a small stone, watching as a guard goes in the opposite direction.

Arthur jogs back to Gwen. “When you get to the horses, ride straight for Camelot. Do not wait for me. Promise.”

Guinevere protests.

Arthur persists. “Promise.”

“I promise.”

[ ](https://imgur.com/wjdDrEy)

Cenred’s guards are inept at best. Arthur saunters down the corridor, and even has to call out to get their attention then dispatches two of them easily. He hopes Camelot guards would put up a better fight.

The Castle of Fyrien throne room has nothing on Camelot’s grand décor. Cenred’s green snake banners adorn the walls, but it still looks second rate compared to Arthur’s home. He’s almost there; he can hear voices and skids to a halt outside the doorway. He peers inside but there is no element of surprise.

“That's close enough,” Cenred declares holding a knife to Morgana’s throat. “One more step and she dies.”

“You're a coward, Cenred. You always were,” Arthur says, but he does not move.

“It's cowards that survive, Arthur. Now put down your sword.”

Morgause comes out from behind a pillar. “Do as he says. Are you surprised to see me again?”

“Hardly. I know what you're capable of,” Arthur says not letting go of his sword.

“Oh, you have no idea.” She laughs. Her eyes flash and she summons a pillar of fire and pushes it towards Arthur.

Arthur brings up his hand to protect his face from the heat.

There is a roaring sound behind him, a gust of cool air, and the fire pillar explodes, blasting everyone backwards. The ceiling collapses.

Dust fills the room and bits of masonry are scattered across the floor. Arthur spits grit from his mouth and rubs his eyes. He staggers to his feet scanning the debris. Three bodies lie on the floor. He recognises Morgana and races over, shaking her and pulling her up to her feet. 

“You all right? Come on.”

He helps her towards the doorway.

Merlin is there and Arthur tries to sound surprised. “Merlin?! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I thought you might need some help!”

A lump of ceiling crashes to the floor.

“Get out of here, now!”

Merlin grabs Morgana's arm and drags her out of the room.

They’re fighting again:

“I can't go on!” says Morgana.

“What's the matter? Worried about your friends?” snaps Merlin.

“No! My ankle!”

Merlin has not let go of her wrist since they escaped the hall, and he insists on pulling her up, but she won’t budge. “I'm not a fool, Morgana! I know what you're trying to do!”

“You know nothing!”

“Come on!” He tries to get her to move.

“What's wrong?” Arthur interrupts, knowing she’s only trying to stall them. Morgana’s a damn good actress but an act it is.

“My ankle.”

Arthur picks Morgana up in a fireman's carry. He can’t talk to her now. He has to get out of the caverns before Cenred’s men catch up

“What are you doing?” Morgana squeals. 

“Trust me, I don't like it any more than you do!” says Arthur. “Come on, Merlin!”

He staggers under the weight of Morgana, but he straightens up and is able to manage a half-run. It’s dark but he dare not stop to light a torch and his eyes are already adjusting to the gloom. The floor is uneven and strewn with rocks and bones. Arthur picks up his pace. _ They must get out. _

His legs burn, his back hurts and sweat stings his eyes but he won’t stop. He can hear the shouts from Cendred’s men and multiple footfalls echo in the passage ways.

Arthur follows Merlin’s form as he surges through the tunnels Arthur doesn’t even question if he knows where he’s going he too busy trying to keep up. 

The air gets cooler and has a salty tang – they must be near the exit. It’s getting lighter; a final push and they will be on the coast, then into the cover of the forest and on their way home. 

Arthur rounds the corner and sees a patch of blue sky – thank the gods!

Every part of Arthur's body hurts; his back aches, his shoulders are stiff, his calves and thighs are burning and his head is pounding like a tight band is crushing his skull. 

He suspects the others feel much the same as no one is particularly talkative despite their miraculous and victorious escape. At least they are safely out of Cedred’s kingdom.

Arthur turns towards Morgana, who has been very quiet.

“Are you all right? Did Cenred hurt you?”

“I’m fine. He’s all talk,” Morgana huffs, adjusting her position in her saddle. 

Arthur nods but doesn’t say anything nor does he leave Morgana’s side. Their horses walk in tandem for a while then Arthur breaks the silence.

“It’s good to have you back."

She gives a half-smile at the comment but does not add to it.

He lets the pause stretch out until it becomes uncomfortable and he has to fill it.

"You mean a lot to me, Morgana. I could not bear to lose you,” he says quietly.

Morgana stops her horse and looks at him warily. “Did you hit your head back there?” 

“No.” Arthur struggles to find the words, “A situation like that...” He tilts his chin back in the direction of the Castle of Fyrien, “it makes you reevaluate things.”

She continues to study him intensely. “I guess it does,” she replies hesitantly then turns her attention to making her horse move again.

“What did Cenred want with you?” Arthur asks in voice that everyone can hear.

“He was trying to extract information. I told him nothing,” she says convincingly.

“See, that's what men like Cenred will never understand. Camelot was built on trust and loyalty. We will never be defeated as long as we stay true to those ideals.”

Guinevere and Eylan raise their hands in agreement and smile at him. Morgana and Merlin do not.

Arthur believes in those ideals, even if some of the people around him seem to disregard them. He does not want to see Camelot fall. 

Two people he cares about have magic, and he can’t quite get his head around what that means. Morgause had tried to kill him and Merlin had blasted the High Priestess across the room like it was nothing. How had he missed such things before? He could not do that any longer.

Morgana was right, however. Arthur had not defended Guinevere’s father when he’d been accused of treason. He’d done nothing. He’d done nothing all those years ago when Guinevere was charged with witchcraft; in fact he’s only stepped in when Merlin had tried to take the blame, declaring himself the magic user! Arthur had defied his king only when Merlin was poisoned and when Merlin’s mother needed help. It was Merlin who made him have faith in his own abilities and decisions and Merlin who had stayed his hand hand when Arthur had almost driven a sword through his father's heart.

Merlin has made Arthur a better man, but it’s not enough.

Merlin is terrified of revealing his own magic. There had been genuine fear when Morgana implied she knew his secret. Morgana is clearly ignorant as to his abilities and Merlin has no confidence in telling Arthur about them. It hurts that Merlin feels he has to hide, that he cannot share what makes him whole.

Arthur can not go on as he had been, blind to the truth. Things are going to have to change. Can he recover what is slipping away? 

Can he become the man and King Merlin believes he can be? 

Maybe it’s Arthur’s turn to teach Merlin something; to make Merlin a better man. He will show Merlin he can be trusted and in return maybe Merlin will be honest with him. Perhaps that could be the start of something.

Arthur brings his horse level with Merlin, who has been riding ahead, alone.

"You’re not saying much."

“You're always telling me to shut up.”

“Not always.”

"I’m tired."

He looks it, too, his shoulders heavy, skin pale and drawn.

"We'll be home soon."

"Yes." Merlin cracks his back and flexes his neck to each side. "That will be good."

"Can I ask you something?”

Merlin shifts in his seat. “What?”

“Back at the castle, when Morgause tried to attack me, I could have sworn I felt something, a presence. Did you notice anything?"

Merlin's shoulders tense again. "Nothing."

"Really? There was definitely some other force at work."

"Maybe her spell just backfired."

“No. It was like there was something else. Something good... It’s difficult to explain, but I've felt it before, when I went for the Mortaeus flower, and on other occasions – when I've been in trouble."

Merlin shrugs. "Well, there are those who believe in you and the sort of kingdom you will build." 

"You think someone is looking out for me?"

"Perhaps." 

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Any idea who?"

Merlin shakes his head.

"Shame."

"Why?" Merlin bites his lip and pulls at the collar of his shirt, a slight tremor in his voice. "What would you do if you found out?" 

Arthur looks Merlin directly in the eye. "I'd say, thank you."

Merlin's mouth drops open and his hands are slack against the rains.

Arthur waits a moment to make sure Merlin isn't going to fall from his saddle, then digs his heels into his own horse so it trots away, leaving a stunned Merlin behind him.

There, Arthur can think when he wants to. He breaks into wide grin. Perhaps the future won't be so bad after all.

The End 


	2. An Erosion of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art only: 3 watercolour paintings and dividers

[ ](https://imgur.com/QyQdvEX)

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought that Arthur wants to think the best of people. Despite his arrogance and hot temper, he does admit when he is wrong and tries to do what he believes is right partially when he has enforced time to think.  
Morgana is very angry and bitter but no so far gone that there is no turning back, if Arthur reached out now things could be different, I doubt she would ever forgive Merlin but perhaps they could learn to tolerate each other and even work together.  
Merlin was always so lonely I always wished Arthur would get to see him as he really was whilst there was still time to make a difference.


End file.
